


warm me up and breathe me

by ktlsyrtis



Series: I go to sleep (and imagine that you're there with me) [1]
Category: Holby City
Genre: Angst, F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-16
Updated: 2017-02-16
Packaged: 2018-09-24 19:37:29
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,764
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9782219
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ktlsyrtis/pseuds/ktlsyrtis
Summary: In the world of medicine there were inevitably good days and bad days. Today had been, unequivocally, a very bad day.  (Takes place post "Four Letter Word")





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ddagent](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ddagent/gifts).



> Inspired by something ddagent said on tumblr before the episode:
> 
> "Who is going to write drunk and grieving Serena coming onto Bernie"
> 
> The answer is me! Not sure if this is what you had in mind, but it's what my brain spilled out.

Dropping her keys on the hall table, Bernie kicked the front door of her flat closed before shrugging out of her coat and hanging it on the nearby peg. She stood for a moment, wavering, too tired to even formulate what to do next.

In the world of medicine there were inevitably good days and bad days. Today had been, unequivocally, a very bad day.

The red phone had rung early. An articulated lorrie slammed into the side of a bus taking a large group of secondary students on a field trip to an art museum, flooding AAU with trauma victims, most of them young and frightened. She had spent much of the day in theater performing one surgery after another, tension ratcheting higher as each child was wheeled in front of her. By some miracle, they had almost all pulled through.

Almost.

Shaking her head she shuffled into the kitchen, dropping the takeaway bag on the table. She eyed it for a moment, stomach twisting. Shoving it into the refrigerator instead, she grabbed a tumbler from the cabinet and poured two fingers of whiskey before turning towards the bedroom.

Kicking off her trainers she sat heavily on the edge of the bed, taking a slow sip of the golden alcohol, feeling it burn down her throat, warming her stomach.

The last surgery of the night was a girl, only sixteen. Pretty, with bright green eyes and a brighter smile. She had originally presented with only minor injuries. Then suddenly she had taken a turn for the worse, falling unconscious as her sats bottomed out. They had rushed her into surgery as quickly as possible, but by the time they opened it was too late, the bleeding coming from seemingly everywhere at once.

Bernie knocked back the rest of her drink in a burning gulp that did nothing to lessen the anger and guilt tightening her chest. She should have known, should have seen. But the day had been too overwhelming, too hectic and by the time she realized her mistake...

She never should have let Serena scrub in.

Bernie had tried to call it early. All of her years of trauma work had given her an innate ability to quickly diagnose when a case was hopeless. But Serena... Serena had fought her, hands buried in the girl's abdomen, blood to her elbows. Practically vibrating with rage as she demanded they continue.

“We _have_ to save her,” she had snarled at Bernie, an edge of panic in her voice, the whites of her eyes showing over her mask. “We have to save El-...her. Her.”

Realization hit Bernie like a freight train, leaving her briefly worried that she might throw up in the middle of theater. Instead she had reached into the poor girl's ravaged body and grabbed Serena's trembling hands, eyes locked on hers as if she were a wary animal in danger of lashing out at any moment.

“Serena, stop.” Her voice was low, but Serena responded as if she'd been slapped, head jerking back. She tried to pull her hands free, but Bernie held fast. “It's over. Please. You have to let go.”

They stayed like that for what felt like an eternity; eyes locked, bloody hands intertwined, until a rough sob broke free of Serena's throat. She ripped her hands from Bernie's, peeling off her gloves. They dropped to the ground with a wet slap as she turned, bolting from theater.

By the time Bernie had declared time of death and finished in theater, Serena was gone. Back in the office Bernie called her cell, four, five times, her voicemails increasingly frantic. Just as she was about to give in and call Jason a text appeared.

_Need space. Sorry._

Bernie pinched the bridge of her nose, trying to push back the headache that tension and exhaustion were combining to spool up. For a moment she considered a second glass. But contemplating the walk back to the kitchen was suddenly overwhelming and she knew it would cause more harm then good.

She pushed herself up from the bed, peeling off her jeans and jumper, leaving them in a heap on the floor before pulling on a pair of soft grey boxers and her favorite threadbare t-shirt. Collapsing on the bed, she buried her face in the pillow, pulling the duvet tight around her thin frame. Hoping against hope that sleep would claim her quickly.

…

Bernie woke with a start, disoriented, struggling against the unexpected feel of a warm body half draped across her, pinning her to the mattress. She tried to roll away, limbs flailing. A hand slid across her waist, holding her tight, a familiar voice in her ear.

“Shhhh, it's just me.”

Bernie froze, squinting in the darkness. “S'rena?” she mumbled, heart still pounding, her sleep-fogged brain at war with the adrenaline flaring in her veins. The hand at her waist slipped beneath the soft, worn fabric of her t-shirt, caressing the planes of her stomach.

“I didn't mean to frighten you,” Serena's voice murmured from the darkness. Bernie gasped at the feel of hot, open-mouthed kisses along the column of her neck. “I missed you.” The hand slid higher, cupping Bernie's breast, fingers teasing her nipple into hardness.

Her mind may have been asleep, but Bernie's body had always responded to Serena, from the very first moment. Now was no different. She groaned into the darkness, sudden arousal pulsing thick and heavy through her body. Serena chuckled, dipping her head to nip Bernie's collarbone through her shirt as she pressed closer, hitching up one leg, trousers rough against Bernie's bare thigh. Her hand left Bernie's breast to trail back over her quivering stomach. Then lower, fingers teasing beneath the waistband of her shorts. Bernie's hips jerked into the touch, already frantic. _God, it's been so long..._

Bernie's mind snapped into sudden, painful clarity. She tensed, grabbing Serena's hand before it could move any further along it's path. Serena whimpered in protest, swirling her tongue around the delicate shell of an ear as she moved over Bernie, straddling her thigh. Heat blossomed against the skin of her leg, momentarily short-circuiting Bernie's brain. Somehow she managed to recover in time to catch the second hand pushing her shirt upward over her ribcage.

Desperate for some sort of control, Bernie twisted her hips, rolling Serena onto her back and pinning her hands above her head. Serena hooked a calf around the back of Bernie's thigh. Teeth clenched, Bernie was barely able to hold back a moan when Serena bucked upwards, pressing hard against her throbbing center.

This close she could finally see Serena clearly. Cheeks flushed, eyes glassy, the smell of wine thick and cloying on her breath. Bernie's heart clenched, pulling back as Serena leaned in to kiss her.

“Serena, stop.”

Serena pouted, something dark and glittering in her eyes. “Why, Bernie? Don't you want me?” She rolled her hips, Bernie's eyes fluttering shut involuntarily.

“Of course I do,” Bernie gritted out.

“Good,” Serena practically purred, smiling wickedly as she leaned up again. Bernie jerked away, turning her head.

“I said stop!” The words came out louder than expected, startling them both. Bernie froze, the only sound in the suddenly quiet room her own labored breathing. Serena stared up at her with wide, confused eyes. Bernie released her wrists and sat back on her heels, pushing back her fringe with a shaking hand.

“Serena, what is this?” Her heart clenched as Serena's face fell, tears glistening in the darkness. Bernie rolled onto her side, reaching out to tuck Serena beneath her chin.

“I...I just wanted to feel something, _anything_ else. I...” Bernie pulled Serena closer as her breath hitched, pressing a kiss to the crown of her head. “Oh god,” she whispered brokenly. Her arms came up around Bernie's back, clutching at her shoulders so tightly Bernie was sure it would leave bruises. “Bernie, I'm sorry. I'm so, so sorry.”

Her words dissolved into tears and Bernie held tight, one hand smoothing up and down the length of Serena's spine as her body was wracked by sobs. They stayed that way, wrapped around each other, Bernie whispering words of comfort until Serena's tears trailed to nothing, her grip finally loosening. Bernie eventually eased them over, laying on her back with Serena's head on her shoulder. She stared up into the dark, tracing soft, soothing circles on Serena's back, feeling her relax into the bed, breathing slow and even.

“Bernie?” Serena's voice was faint, slurred by the combination of alcohol and exhaustion. “You know I love you, right?” The uncertainty in her voice made Bernie's chest ache.

“I do,” she whispered, pressing her cheek against Serena's soft hair. “I love you too, Serena.”

Serena hummed softly against Bernie's sternum, finally slipping into sleep. Bernie waited a while longer, making sure Serena was settled before carefully slipping out of bed. She padded quietly into the kitchen, grabbing a bottle of paracetamol and a glass from the cabinet. She filled the glass from the tap, pressing it against her forehead, the smooth surface wonderfully cool against her still too-warm skin. She sighed, drinking down half the glass, refilling it before snagging her phone from her bag. She tapped out a quick text to Jason, reassuring him that Serena was fine and would be home in the morning. Retrieving the glass, she returned to the bedroom.

Serena had rolled onto her side in Bernie's absence, one hand fisted in the sheets. Moonlight spilled across her face, accenting the shadows beneath her eyes, the deep lines even sleep could no longer erase. Placing both glass and medication on the nightstand, Bernie carefully slipped beneath the duvet, wrapping an arm around Serena's waist as she spooned up behind her. Serena muttered in her sleep, Bernie soothing her with soft words and a kiss pressed to her shoulder.

Tomorrow they were going to have to talk. The thought made Bernie vaguely nauseous, but she knew it had to happen. She would do whatever it took to help Serena and if that was a confrontation about her drinking, she would find the bravery to face it. Somehow. Tears pricked the back her eyes. It had taken them so long to get here, to find one another. She would do anything, fight anything, to keep them together through this. Even if that was Serena herself.

But that was tomorrow. For tonight, she held the woman she loved more than anything huddled in her arms, watching over her in the darkness. Praying that they would someday see the dawn.


End file.
